


Rotting Inside

by UltimateFandomTrash



Series: All She Had [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Injury Recovery, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, not even a whole day as passed, not much going on there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: After Lucifer attacks Rowena and then leaves her to fend for herself, she calls for the Winchesters to help her, but this might be more than they can handle. Sequel to “All She Had”.





	Rotting Inside

It took Rowena a few minutes to realize that maybe she did have the ability to get help. Any possible route in this situation was shameful, so she’d just have to figure out which one was the least uncomfortable. There was waiting for the cleaning lady, continuing to bleed out, and then going to the hospital to be poked and prodded and asked question after question. She’d be surrounded by people she didn’t know, and eventually she’d have to escape or else they’d find out she was a witch. The other, less uncomfortable, but more shameful option, was calling the Winchesters.

They weren’t her enemies, but they weren’t her friends either, and she didn’t want them seeing her weakened and broken. But they knew her, knew what she could do, that she wasn’t some pathetic, normal human like all the rest. And she’d helped them before, seemingly without anything in return so maybe they’d be willing to help her. Besides, they were all enemies of Lucifer.

Rowena felt drained - mentally, emotionally, and physically. Though she was a powerful witch, she usually needed to have those three parts of herself relatively stable to work her magic. Fighting Lucifer hadn’t helped either. Her head was still pounding.

She considered getting her phone, but she attempted to do so and quickly learned how terrible an idea that was. Absolutely everything in her hurt when she tried to move; her back, her ribs, her thighs, her pelvis, her abdomen, her foot, her wrist, her neck, her head. The list seemed endless. A despairing whimper left her when she realized how helpless she was. Lucifer had turned her into this, into this bleeding thing. She had promised herself that she’d never be like this again, would never be weak, never be used, never be broken. And now she’d been used to the point where she couldn’t move. A despairing whimper left her, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling.

No, that couldn’t have happened to her. None of that had happened to her. Sure, it made sense. It was the Devil. Why would he hold back with hurting her? He’d had no reason to. In his eyes she was dangerous, she’d wronged him. But oh, how she wished he would’ve killed her for it instead of this. Surely death would be better than this living hell, this agony.

Rowena thought she might’ve spaced out for a few minutes. She just felt the pain and the blood, felt her heart beating rapidly, her breaths shallow, felt how cold she was. But her mind was empty. There was nothing but the awful sensations in her body.

Something brought her back from it, she couldn’t be sure what. Maybe she’d somehow done it on her own.

Then she realized what she’d have to try and do.

Magic. She was going to have to use magic.

Hopefully she could, even just enough to contact one of the Winchesters.

She decided upon Sam. He seemed to have some natural ability with the craft, something she didn’t entirely understand, but it would help her send a message to him. It’d be less taxing than it would be were she sending a message to Dean.

The pain was too great for her to block it out, so she tried to force her way through it. She had to strain herself, like all her torment had built her a prison in which she couldn’t escape. But she had to do. She did.

Her head began to hurt even more, like someone was taking a pickaxe to it, and then her nose was bleeding.

Rowena didn’t know if this would work, hadn’t tried much with communicating with someone else mentally before, but she had no other option. So she pictured the younger Winchester in her mind, his tall, muscular frame, his fluffy hair, his kind hazel eyes that could turn dark and determined when he had a job to do, when he had something to kill. And the plaid, the stupid plaid, that she had a feeling she’d feel blessed seeing if the Winchesters did end up saving her.

With Sam in her mind she then tried to capture his essence, which was a little harder. She’d only really spent time with him when he was busy holding her captive, or her trying to hurt him in some way, or double cross him. Helping him was still a bit new, and she knew he hadn’t truly showed himself to her. Sam kept himself tightly closed off, even if he didn’t act like he did. It was in his movements, the sometimes stone cold look he got on his face, as if he wasn’t feeling a single thing in those moments. But he was kind, that much she knew. Why else would he save so many people if he wasn’t kind and compassionate? Rowena tried to latch onto that compassion as she pictured him, and then she felt something, an emotion that wasn’t her own. It was something she felt in her chest and the upper part of her abdomen.

She started laughing in amusement,  realizing that Sam was probably doing that at that very moment. She figured he must be with Dean, since the older Winchester seemed to joke a lot. His mirth was slightly removed from her, like a ghost sensation. There but not there. There was something else underneath it, an odd blackness beneath everything, but Rowena didn’t let herself wander towards that. She could already feel him slipping away from her, and she figured with how weak she was she only had one shot at this.

_ Sam. _

Alarm flared in her in that ghostly way, and hope began to rise in her.

_ Sam, I need your help. I’m in New York. _

Then she heard his voice as if he was in the same room with her. It was filled with caution, worry.  _ Rowena? _

_ Yes. Now hurry. _

_ Why? _

_ Lucifer. _

Rowena hurriedly gave him her location, and that was all she was able to say before the pounding in her head made it feel like her skull had been shattered and her connection with Sam broke. Her vision tunneled and she passed out.

 

“Sam? Sam, what’s wrong?”

Sam had a hand to his head, which was hurting, almost in the way it did when he used to get visions. He didn’t like it. And it had almost felt like he was getting a vision, the same dark feeling coming over him. But then he’d heard Rowena’s voice in his head. There was despair and anguish in it. Something he would have never expected from her.

“Dean, we have to go to New York City.”

“What? Why?”

His brother gave him a wide-eyed glance, taking his gaze off the road.

They were in Rhode Island, had just finished up a hunt involving a vampire the night before, and they were heading home now. They bounced in their seats as they hit a pothole, and then another, and Dean muttered, “Fucking hate the roads in Rhode Island.”

Sam mentally agreed with him, but then said, trying to explain. “It’s Lucifer. He’s there.” He hadn’t wanted to say his name, but he’d had to get Dean to listen.

“Pfft! No he’s not. That son of a bitch is rotting downstairs.”

“Dean, I don’t… I don’t know. Rowena-”

“Dude, what did you take?” Dean interjected.

Sam shot him a look that said  _ fuck you _ , and then told him, “Nothing. Rowena, she - I don’t know how, but she got in my head, told me something’s wrong, that she needs help.”

“And you’re gonna believe her?”

“She’s in trouble. I… I felt it.”

Dean gave Sam a long look, which made him swerve close to the other lane, mostly because of another damn pothole, and a passing driver on honked their horn at them. His brother glared out the window, but then focused on driving again.

“Okay. Okay, let’s go to New York City. Just a few hours away, anyway.”

_ We’re coming, Rowena, _ Sam thought purposefully, wondering if she could still here him, wondering if she was alive.

And then he began wondering if he’d have to face Lucifer again. Sam swallowed roughly and forced himself to take deep breaths, feeling nauseous from the very idea.

“You good?” Dean asked. “You just went green.”

“Fine. Just keep driving.”

His brother drove, putting miles behind them, and with each one, Sam did his best to mentally prepare himself for whatever they’d be facing. Whether it be Lucifer or possibly finding Rowena’s dead body. He was going to be ready, and he was sure Dean was preparing himself for the same.

 

Rowena thought maybe she heard low voices, and then there was a large hand touching her injured rib, and she whimpered. Though, it wasn’t from pain. She didn’t hurt now. She was just cold and numb.

“Definitely broken.”

Sam. Was that Sam?

“And what about…?”

Dean. He’d trailed off. Must’ve been gesturing to the rest of her.

“Hey, Rowena, you with us?” Sam asked.

She blearily opened her eyes, though she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to face them even though they had come to help her. The room was lit by the hotel lamps now, the light gently reflected by the dark mess of blood she was lying in. Some of it had dried now, was sticky and disgusting. Even without being covered in it she’d feel disgusting. The flow of it had slowed down a bit, but her foot was still bleeding. She knew if she was just a normal human she would’ve been dead hours ago. Pity that she had her magic. There was still Lucifer’s seed on her and in her, and she quailed at the fact that Sam and Dean had probably seen it, that they’d seen  _ her _ , bruised and bleeding in her ripped clothes.

That thought nearly made her shut her eyes again, try to pretend none of this was real. But Sam’s hazel eyes only held kindness. There might’ve been disgust there, but it was masked, and she knew it wasn’t with her. It should’ve been directed at her though. She  _ was _ disgusting. How could she not be? Her body had been used, defiled.

“You came,” she whispered, barely able to get her voice out since she was so weak.

“Yeah, yeah we did,” Dean said, going over to her other side.

Rowena felt suddenly closed off from that, two large men on either side of her. They could hurt her, they could-

_ No. No. Just Sam and Dean, _ she assured herself.

“We’re gonna get you covered up and get you out of here, okay?” Sam told her.

She nodded weakly, before numbness took her again, her vision blurring as the Winchester brothers seemed to fade to nothing.

 

There was movement, she was being jostled, aches and pains flaring anew amongst the cold dark, and there were voices, and then she came to on a bed, one that wasn’t soaked through with her blood. There was a hand on her shoulder, Dean’s, she thought, but it was being removed before her skin could start crawling from the touch.

“Hey,” he told her, giving her a half smile. He was near her, kneeling down by the bed. “We got you to a motel, and we’re gonna clean you up, okay? I… I know you probably feel like hell, and I’ve been there, I get it somewhat, but I wanted to make sure I have your permission to take care of you first. I know...” He sighed, looking away, clearly not sure what to say. Rowena was fine with it. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to hear the word, didn’t want to think it. “Sam and I are gonna have to touch you.”

Rowena wanted to curse his name, tell him that she wasn’t made of glass, but then she realized that what he’d done was actually a gesture of kindness, and she realized, had she woken up to strange hands on her, it would’ve been a terrible experience. Dean had done the right thing in this situation. She tried to say something, but she didn’t know what she could say, her thoughts and emotions too confused, so nothing came out.

The hunter went on, “And I’m guessing you can’t heal yourself, or else you would’ve done that already.”

“Help me,” Rowena whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek. She currently didn’t care that she was naked under the sheet that was over her, didn’t care that Sam and Dean had already had to touch her, didn’t care that they’d removed her clothes since they’d done it out of necessity, didn’t care that they knew. She felt like she was slowly dying, and it was unbearable. She knew she wouldn’t, not without a witch killing bullet or being completely obliterated in some way, and she knew even if she did the Resurrection Seal would bring her back. But she was scared, so, so scared. It seemed to be all she felt in that moment. “H-help. Please.”

Dean nodded, and then removed the sheet. The door of the drab, brown-decorated motel room they were in opened, and Sam came back in. “Cleaned the blood outta the backseat,” he announced. “There wasn’t a lot. Smart wrapping her in all those sheets.”

“Sammy, she’s up.”

Seeing this, the other Winchester hurried over to her. He didn’t seemed fazed that she was naked, and it made her feel better about her current situation.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he soothed. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

So they got to work, carefully stitching up what they could, one of them holding her down while the other set her foot. Sam had put his belt in her mouth to bite on before they’d done that, and after telling her what he was going to do, Dean put a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream so the other people in the motel wouldn’t hear her. With her good hand she’d reached up to grab hold of Dean’s wrist, needing something to hold onto as even more pain took hold of her in that moment. This was all unbearable and Sam setting her foot had dragged her past that, scraping her up against shards of glass until she was nothing but pieces of herself. Not even holding onto Dean seemed to help much. Her right hand had just shook when he’d done it, the pain too much, and she couldn’t hold onto anything, her wrist swollen and throbbing. With the way they were going about things, it wasn’t even awkward with Sam stitching up the bite marks on her breast. While it was overwhelming having both of them touching her at once, cleaning her with warm water and burning alcohol,  wiping her skin with towels, assessing damage, she was glad they were getting the work done quickly and doing their best to not draw attention to her nudity. Their touches hurt, the stitches hurt, but at least they asked her permission before touching her anywhere that might’ve been uncomfortable. It was all uncomfortable, all shameful, but she wasn’t going to say that. Rowena felt like she was rotting inside.

After bandaging her chest and her foot and one deep cut on her neck that she hadn’t even noticed had been there, Sam asked, “Can I touch your hips? They’re bruised, and I want to see how much damage there is to them.” Rowena tried to tell him he could, but the word got stuck on her tongue. “It’s okay,” he assured. “I’m not gonna do anything to you. It’ll hurt, I’m not gonna lie, but it’s just to help you. You asked me for help, and I’m here. I promise I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want.”

“Y-yes,” she got out, feeling so exhausted. She was tired of existence, just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, let the rot take her.

Sam’s hands were on her hips, his thumbs digging into her.

Lucifer’s hands were on her hips. She thought maybe he was talking to her. Some things were a little fuzzy now, while others stood out with sharp clarity. His scent suddenly filled her nostrils, and it was overwhelming. She didn’t understand it, but it felt like he was in her again, her walls being stretched and forced apart and torn into and bruised. There was pressure inside her, striking up a pain that spread throughout her lower abdomen, through her back. Rowena felt light-headed, more light-headed than she had been before, and suddenly the cold was gone, her body temperature rising as heat took her.

_ Oh god, oh god… _

She let out a weak cry, and then somehow said to whoever was touching her, and whoever was at her side, “I’m going to be sick.”

The rough, strong hands left her hips, but Lucifer’s didn’t, and then she was being turned onto her side while they held her hair back. Someone was holding a trash can near her, and she managed to get her head over it, even with the way her neck hurt, before her stomach emptied itself. She was shuddering, the taste in her mouth sour, and then she was throwing up again.

Dean. She realized it was Dean who was holding the trash can, then rested it down again and left her side, hopefully to get something to clean her mouth with. Sam gently pressed a hand against the middle of her back. She tried to writhe, to move away, but her body wouldn’t listen to her, so a pathetic, mewling sound left her instead.

“Sorry, sorry!” Sam said, quickly taking his hand away. “Didn’t see those bruises before, is all. Can I…?”

Rowena nodded. She wasn’t sure why she had thrown up, what had happened to her earlier, why it’d suddenly been like she wasn’t in the motel room anymore, wasn’t with the Winchesters, was only with the Devil. It was like he was still with her, but she was more aware of what was going on.

Sam pressed his hand against her back again, his touch firm, but it didn’t bother her as much as the touch on her hips had.

“Good, there’s no fracture,” he concluded. Then he gently laid her down on her back again, saying, “You might just have a contusion, a pretty bad one. Is it okay if I try again? Still gotta see how your hips are.”

Dean was over by her now, and he waited for her to give Sam consent before he was gently wiping at her mouth and chin. He threw the damp paper towel away, and then said, “So, New York City, huh? Seems like the place for you. Lots of celebrities, lots of money, lots of people to give you attention. It looks as fun as LA. Sam and I were there awhile ago. Hella fun if you ignore well… We dressed up as rock stars, and Cas, Cas he-”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, interrupting him.

“Distracting her,” he answered bluntly. And then he continued talking to Rowena as if his brother hadn’t interrupted, “Cas, he called me a lumberjack. Can you believe it? The nerve of that guy. It was only ‘cause I was teasing him about his clothes, you know, that suit and coat he always wears? Looks fine and all, a bit preppy, maybe, but I thought I’d just poke some fun at him. Besides, he’d been hanging out with your son, so I had to get back at him somehow. And then…” Rowena stopped paying attention; she wasn’t sure she particularly cared about any of this, but it was easier to have Sam touching her hips while she listened to Dean’s voice, focused on his face and the way his lips moved. The words didn’t matter much, just that she had something to focus on. And then Sam’s hands were off of her.

“All right. All done with that,” Sam announced, cutting Dean off, and making Rowena look over and up at him. “They’re fractured, I think. We’ll bandage ‘em up, along with your wrist and foot, get you in your pajamas, get some water in you, and see how the rest of the night goes, okay?”

Rowena was going to nod, but she felt like she’d already been up for so long, felt like she’d been running a marathon that she hadn’t prepared for. Her body was weary and aching, and just wanted rest. She dropped into unconsciousness again.

 

Sam and Dean went through her bags they’d grabbed from her motel room, managed to find a pair of pajamas they thought would be comfortable for her, and then carefully dressed her in them. She never woke up, though she’d let out an occasional whine. There was an elephant in the room, something heavy that Sam didn’t know how to bring up. They’d taken care of Rowena without mentioning it by name, with hardly speaking of it, and they’d cleaned her up, maybe both of them pretending they hadn’t been cleaning Lucifer’s cum from her thighs. Sam had had to go into the bathroom and throw up at that, but luckily, Dean hadn’t questioned him about it. He’d been keeping a tight lid on things, but now that he was sitting on the bed next to Rowena’s and Dean was sitting at the table across from him, neither of them having anything to do, Sam was exhausted. He wanted to lie down, and continue feeling the nothingness he’d felt while taking care of her. He didn’t want to pay attention to that dark, corrupting disgust inside him, didn’t want to pay attention to any of what had happened.

How  _ had _ it happened?

Lucifer was in the Cage. He was sure of it. Or he had been. But he was willing to trust Rowena. With how badly hurt she was, there was no reason for her to lie. Besides, Lucifer was easily capable of doling out that much damage.

Now his mind kept playing images of Lucifer walking into the room and hurting all three of them, biting his bottom lip with sadistic and sickening arousal as he did so.

“Dean, are we gonna talk about what happened to her?”

“We already did,” he answered, glancing at Rowena, his eyes widened slightly, lips parted. Sam recognized it as a look of disgust, but he figured it wasn’t directed at Rowena.

“No. I mean...” Sam let out a sigh, and wiped a hand over his face and then through his hair. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to, but if they were going to take care of her, it seemed like a necessity. “I mean about the fact that she was raped.”

Dean breathed deeply. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’re not really experts on that sorta thing. Not like either of us have ever been raped.”

Sam looked away at that. “Yeah, definitely haven’t been.”

“Do we… do we talk to her about it?”

He shrugged. Sam wasn’t sure what the right thing to do here was. He knew how she was feeling, knew how dreadful it was, but he himself didn’t really want to talk about it. Still, he had to at least try, let her know that he understood.

“I’ll see if she wants to talk about it when she wakes up again,” Sam said. “And if she doesn’t, that’s her choice.”

Dean nodded in understanding.

“I can, too,” he added.

Sam shook his head, knowing Dean might accidently say the wrong thing, and he knew that what he might have to say to Rowena could be very personal. He might say things Dean didn’t know, things he didn’t want him to know. They were things that Sam didn’t even want to talk about. But to help someone else, he’d try.

“No. You mean well, but you can be a little…”

“A little what?”

“Abrasive.” Dean glared at him, and Sam added, his hands out in a placating gesture, “Only sometimes! Look, I…” He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to get Dean to understand, tried thinking of something he could say that wouldn’t give away what he’d been through in the Cage. There were lots of other instances he’d been touched, things that maybe he could mention. “I’ve sorta been touched before, in ways I didn’t want, and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean exclaimed, getting up from the table, a hand on his hip, the other hand wiping over his mouth in distress. Then he was just staring, his mouth open. “Are you saying…?”

“No, of course not,” Sam lied, his tone suggesting that the idea of that would be preposterous. “Just… Remember the Woman in White? That was one time. And then Meg.”

Dean shivered, but then started pacing, using movement as an attempt to hide it. “Meg kissed me too, dude, and she also seemed to get her rocks off sitting in my lap just like she did with you.”

“Yeah, but, you sometimes have a hard time being gentle, is all I’m saying.”

“Fine,” his brother conceded. “If she wants to talk about it, I’ll let you handle it.” They were silent for awhile and then Dean asked, “And what we do about,” he cleared his throat before going on, “her other injuries?”

Sam pressed his lips together and looked to Rowena again. For now they’d done all they could, but she was still hurt. They knew how to take care of most of her injuries, but how to take care of the ones inside her, that was a mystery. Sam was also really worried about her foot. They’d stitched what they could back together, had realigned her bones, but it wasn’t like they could actually make a cast.

“I don’t know,” he eventually answered. “That’s more… personal than I’m comfortable handling, and it’s more than she’s probably willing to put up with.”

“Too bad we can’t get Cas to show up and wave his magic wand till she’s all better. He’s still not answering his phone.”

Sam just grunted in acknowledgement of what Dean said. He missed Castiel, wondered what he was up to, what he was keeping from them. It made him uneasy, but mostly because he didn’t know if anything bad was happening to him. He hoped his friend was okay.

“Maybe we should just take her to the hospital,” Dean suggested.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her when she wakes up,” Sam told him. “She might not want to go.”

“But Sam, we can’t handle this. Look at her,” he exclaimed, gesturing towards her, as if Sam hadn’t already been looking, hadn’t seen what the Devil had done. “Lucifer _broke_ _her_.” Dean ran his hands through his hair. “And god, now we got _him_ to take care of again. How could he be out?”

“We’ll figure that out after.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but it’s not like I’m some expert on all things Lucifer, okay?”

Now he really wanted to lie down, or maybe just get up and run away. But he couldn’t do either of those things. He had a responsibility to Rowena now.

“Aren’t you?”

Sam stood at that, finding his brother’s tone threatening in some way.

“Excuse me?”

“You know him better than anyone else, don’t you?”

Sam suddenly had the urge to punch Dean in the face, and if not him, then the wall, maybe put a hole in it. He was breathing heavily now, his muscles tensing. But no, he couldn’t. Dean didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t know how he was hurting him.

Sam pointed at the door, and said, unable to keep the anger from his voice though the volume at which he spoke was quiet, “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out. Go to a pharmacy or something, pick up some pain medicine, maybe some other things you think we’ll need. Just make sure it takes awhile.”

“But-”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’m trying really hard to not punch you right now.”

His brother looked him up and down, took in his stance, the way his chest was heaving as anger filled his blood.

“Fine,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the table, and then he thankfully left.

It didn’t even bother Sam that he hadn’t apologized. He might get to that later.

He closed his eyes, took in a few deep breaths, and then decided to wake up Rowena so he could get her to drink some water.

 

“Rowena. Hey, Rowena. You gotta wake up.”

“Hmm?” She wanted to roll over, ignore the voice, but then she tried to move and her body protested at it, hurting, and she was still much too exhausted.

“You need water.”

Whoever was speaking to her was right, she realized. She did need water. Her throat and mouth were dry, and she knew after losing all that blood she needed a way to replenish it.

Rowena opened her eyes, saw Sam’s worried face. She looked around, trying to find Dean as well. It felt better to keep track of who was with her now and where they were.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked.

“Sent him to get some supplies,” Sam answered.

That was a relief. She figured she needed to down a bottle of pain medicine. Well, downing it probably wouldn’t be a good idea, but she figured she could have twice the highest dose regular humans could handle. She tried sitting up as Sam left her side, going to the sink to fill up a glass with water. She only succeeded in raising herself an inch before she fell back down to the bed, too exhausted to do much more. If she wasn’t so weak she figured she’d start crying again. But only a whimper came out.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam soothed, hurrying back over to her. He rested the glass down on the bedside table. “Do you need help sitting up?” he asked.

Rowena hated her answer: “Yes.”

Sam leaned down over her, and she started having a hard time breathing, but he moved slowly, and then just put his arm under her shoulder blades, gently lifting her up. He had to reach around her to arrange the pillows correctly so she could lean back against them, and then he carefully shifted her back.

“There you go,” he said. “Need help with the glass?”

Rowena held out her uninjured left hand, ignoring how her muscles didn’t like the strain.

“Hand it over,” she told him, pretending like she hadn’t just needed help.

Sam did so, but he didn’t seem to trust her, and kept his hand close to hers, which earned him a glare. He gave her a small smile, but didn’t withdraw his hand. Rowena realized she’d just have to put up with it.

It took much longer than she wanted to, and Sam did have to help her hold the glass after awhile, but she managed to finish it, and then he went to go refill it, handing it over again.

“Drink at least half of that,” he instructed. “Then it’ll probably be best for you to stay up to keep sipping at it. What you really need is a blood transfusion, but Dean and I aren’t a hospital.” 

She continued to sip at the water, started to feel it sloshing around in her stomach, and it was uncomfortable. After she’d had half, Sam took the glass from her, putting it down on the bedside table.

“Do you  _ want _ to go to a hospital?” he eventually asked.

Rowena immediately tried to shake her head, but her bruised neck didn’t like that movement, so she settled for a quiet “No.”

“Okay, just… we’re not really equipped for handling… um…” - he looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck - “all of your injuries.”

“I just need to get my strength back,” she said, more for herself than for him, “and then I’ll handle the rest. Can’t do magic when I’m like this.”

Sam nodded in understanding, still not looking at her. She could tell he wanted to say something else, the tension in his body practically screaming it at her.

“What is it?” she asked, realizing he wasn’t going to tell her on his own anytime soon.

He sighed, and went over to the table across from the beds, sitting himself down on it. It made him look more imposing, something that made Rowena uncomfortable, but she didn’t particularly know why, and she didn’t know how to tell him. She didn’t really want to tell him that.

Sam met her gaze, tried to hold it, and then looked down at his hands which were in his lap, and she now knew for certain what it was he wanted to discuss. “What Lucifer did to you, aside from… aside from the broken bones and everything, do you… I don’t know - do you want to talk about it?”

Rowena attempted to give him a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. She liked that he was trying, but…

“It’s nothing you would understand.”

Sam huffed out a laugh, and shook his head, biting on his bottom lip. He scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “That’s uh… that’s where you’re wrong.”

Rowena’s gaze shot back over to him, and she frowned.

_ What? _

“Surprise,” he said softly, lifting up his hands and waving them half-heartedly, as if this was some big, exciting news.

All she could do was stare at him. No, he couldn’t have been. He didn’t look like it. She immediately scolded herself at that thought. Just because she was a mess now and he wasn’t didn’t mean he hadn’t been in her place at one time or another. The Winchesters had surely seen lots of evil, but that? To have gone through that?

She didn’t feel like it was her place to ask, but she did anyway, “W-who?”

“Not important,” he said. “Basically, I’ve been there. I get it. You’re hurting, you feel gross, you want to kill who did it but never see them ever again all at the same time. And it’s like they’re still with you - you can hear them, smell them, taste them, feel them, and you can see them in your head.”

Rowena looked away at that, and forced herself to pick up the glass of water again. It gave her something to do that wouldn’t involve talking about this. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but what Sam was talking about… She knew it was real. Even as he’d been speaking she could’ve sworn Lucifer was biting her again, was inside her. She took a sip to stall responding to him.

Then she just rested the glass on her lap, ignoring how it hurt a bit. Everything hurt. What was a little more pain? She was disgusting anyway. Maybe she should hurt.

“Why are you telling me this?” Rowena asked him, unable to meet his gaze. “We’re… we’re not  _ friends _ or anythin’.”

“Well, do you have anyone else to talk to?” he asked, getting off of the table and settling into one of the chairs instead, sitting on it backwards, so that he was straddling it. She liked that a little better; he didn’t seem terrifyingly large anymore.

“No,” she answered simply, staring down into the water.

“Then there you go. Rowena, look, right now, I don’t care about that stuff you’ve done to us in the past, or that you’re, I don’t know, evil. What I do care about is that  _ somehow _ Lucifer got out and he found you and he hurt you. You’re his enemy too. So the two of us, we might not be friends, but we both want him dead. And remember, you called me. So here I am, trying to help. And if not talking about it is what’s gonna help for now, then I get it. I don’t talk about it either. Dean doesn’t even know.”

Rowena took another sip of water, and then realized that she couldn’t keep doing that. The discomfort from that was enough to make her not want to use it to stall anymore, to not say anything. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but there was something dark and heavy within her, deep within in her. In her abdomen, in her chest, maybe everywhere. She wanted to rip her own skin off, then maybe the rot inside would show on the outside as well.

“I don’t…” she began, but then trailed off, the words not coming to her. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. What she really wanted to do was scream. “I don’t  _ understand _ .” She was too tired to cry, to sob, so her voice was quiet, calm, even with the raging, dark tempest inside. “I’m still trying to make sense  of that fact that it happened to me. It couldn’t have. Right?”

Sam licked his lips nervously, let out a long breath, and then moved his chair a bit closer. “Rowena, I’m sorry. I am. But it did happen. It did, and you’re gonna have to accept that. It doesn’t have to be right this instant. But eventually, you’ll have to. Trust me, I’ve tried running from it, still am, and…”

“And what?”

“I don’t know, it’s like, sometimes I can’t really  _ feel _ things, things that I think I should feel.” He shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make this about me. But you, how are you doing?” 

Rowena did her best to not glare at him, and just shot him a bland look that asked,  _ What do you think? _

“Right. Sorry. But yeah, I’m here. You can talk to me. If you want.”

Sam started to shift awkwardly now, and he was clearly still nervous. It almost seemed as if he wanted to back in time and slap himself for sharing any of this with her, but Rowena was grateful that he’d said something. She didn’t know if she wanted to talk, just knew that she wanted to cry and scream, but couldn’t. It was as if Lucifer had stolen her voice too. But she did manage to say two words.

“Thank you.”

 

It seemed like ages before she was able to finish that glass of water, and then Sam forced her to have another one. Really, if she had been strong enough, she would’ve just splashed it in his face. She didn’t want to be forced to do anything, even if it was for her own wellbeing.

Dean eventually came back, and he looked between the two of them before entering and setting a plastic bag down on the table. Rowena didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to look at Sam either, the shame making it hurt too much.

“Okay, I got some ice packs - those ones that you just snap and shake a bit and they’re cold - some pain medicine, some ace bandages, a wrist brace, and uh…” He cleared his throat, blushing, and then looked in Rowena’s general direction but not at her. A sound that might’ve been a grunt, more throat clearing. “I wasn’t really sure what was um, going on down there,” he went on, gesturing at his own crotch, “so I got some pads. Thought, I don’t know, maybe you’d need…” He trailed off, his face red now, and Sam was blushing too, and Rowena’s face would’ve been red if she had more blood in her. “Yeah,” he finished lamely, taking his coat off. He went over to the fridge and grabbed a beer and then sat down at the table.

Rowena was actually glad Dean had thought to do that. As she’d been sitting there talking to Sam she could feel herself bleeding still, every once in awhile, and she figured her pajamas had already been stained. She hadn’t been sure what to tell them about that though. Men usually didn’t want to talk about any of that. Most of them heard the word  _ vagina _ and wanted to flee. At least they were trying their best.

Then Rowena realized she’d have no way to put the pad on. She couldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom, and she could feel her bladder getting full. She couldn’t get out of the bed, she couldn’t take care of herself, her pajamas were bloody, her wrist and foot didn’t even have casts on them, her hips were fractured, her back hurt, her neck hurt, her thighs were throbbing, the inside of her was in agony, and Sam and Dean were trying their best, but they couldn’t do it all.

Maybe Rowena was partially hydrated again because then she started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks, the salt stinging the wound on her face that she had from Lucifer slapping her.

Dean and Sam rushed over immediately, but they kept their distance, and didn’t touch her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean soothed. “Look, I can take all that stuff back if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“Tell us what’s going on,” Sam said. “You’re safe here.”

“I-I n-need to go to-to the hospital,” she sobbed out.

“You want us to take you there?” Dean asked.

Instead of forcing her to answer, they let her just cry for a bit, but Rowena actually wished that they could somehow stop her. Crying hurt her rib, crying hurt her sense of pride. She was pathetic. Always had been, always would be, and Lucifer had proven that to her. Here she was, crying in front of the Winchesters, two men who had been her enemies, people she had never wanted to see her like this. Rowena didn’t want anyone to see her like this. But there was no denying that they couldn’t help her in her situation. They had tried, but it wasn’t enough.

Lucifer had broken her.

She eventually managed to control her breathing, though tears still rolled down her cheeks. “No,” she answered.

“Then how can we help?” Sam asked gently. “Want us to call an ambulance? They’ll know how to transport you better than we can.”

“Please.”

They left her side, Sam taking out his phone, and Dean going over to the counter, leaning against it with his head lowered.

And Rowena started crying again, and she hated it, hated herself, because she was doing something she’d never thought she’d do. She was crying, and she was letting herself cry, and she’d given in, and she’d admitted defeat. And she’d done it in front of the Winchesters.

She had nothing left of herself, nothing that she could find. Lucifer had crushed it.

Shame was all she had now, and she feared that somehow, that shame was going to kill her.

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly had Sam and Dean in Rhode Island in the beginning of this so I could use them to complain about the potholes in Rhode Island. At first I wasn't going to mention that they'd been hunting a vampire (it was going to be a rugaru), but fun fact, Rhode Island is the "Vampire Capital of the Country" so it only felt fitting to at least mention a vampire.
> 
> So I tried really hard with Sam's body language in this even though Rowena was the main focus. He was baring his soul at one point, so characterizing him right felt really important. I also had him talk about dissociation a bit (of course, without actually saying the word 'cause he might not even know what he's doing exactly or that there's a word for it) because to me, it seems like he does it canon quite a lot. I think Rowena does to, not to the same extent, though, and she's definitely not doing it here because what happened to her was _way_ too recent.
> 
> Still can't believe it didn't end here and that I _yet again_ broke a character so badly it takes over 5k to fix them. So there'll most likely be a sequel to this sequel. Just not sure when I'd get to it.


End file.
